


will you rest upon my little bed?

by orphan_account



Series: said the spider to the fly [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 14:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11693688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Michael folds itself down into the chair opposite Jonathan’s desk, looks him directly in the eyes, and declares, “I would like to make a statement, Archivist.”





	will you rest upon my little bed?

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes, the thursday routine: new ep, new said the spider fic. i feel like i should apologize for the fact that this one isn't filth.
> 
> there's a pretty big spoiler referenced in there, since this is dated two days after the most recent ep, so listen to MAG76 before you read this one!

Michael silently invites itself into his office again a week or so later, and… honestly there’s beginning to be something routine about it by now. He looks up, Michael is there without having bothered to use the door or announce itself, his heart jumps halfway out of his throat at the sight. It’s becoming the norm, somehow, for all that it hasn’t actually happened all that often.

Except that this time, Michael folds itself down into the chair opposite Jonathan’s desk, looks him directly in the eyes, and declares, “I would like to make a statement, Archivist.”

He blinks when it says that, utterly thrown. At the same time, though, he’s reaching for the tape recorder almost on autopilot.

“Regarding?”

It smiles and doesn’t answer. _That_ , at least, is more than familiar.

“…right,” he says eventually, when it becomes clear that there’s definitely no answer forthcoming, and clicks the recorder on.

“Statement of the being calling itself Michael, regarding an undisclosed matter. Statement taken direct from subject on the 15th of February, 2017. Statement begins.”

As is _definitely_ starting to become routine with Michael, he doesn’t remember anything after that.

When he finally does come to, he’s slumped forward across his desk, glasses askew, and Michael is sitting across from him still and watching him. If he had to guess, he’d say it hadn’t even moved since he was last aware.

Evidently his guess would be wrong, though, because when he sits himself up straight and asks it what happened, it only tilts its head and then says, after a long moment of silence, “I turned off the recorder when I finished giving my statement.”

It takes a moment of collecting himself before he’s able to speak again.

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

“That is true,” Michael agrees easily. It seems to contemplate him a little, and he can’t tell whether it’s debating whether to enlighten him, or just… examining.

“You have been needing sleep,” it says eventually. And then it smiles, and the smile is too wide, with too many perfect teeth on show. “It would be… unfortunate if you ended up like Miss Halligan, wouldn’t it?”

Halligan. He remembers the name; remembers the disjointed, unsettling statement and the part that the thing sat opposite played in it, even if he has yet to work out what Michael’s goals were with her.

“Are you suggesting that you were trying to… help Lydia Halligan, or—?”

It cuts him off then by laughing, and it seems to laugh for hours before it finally stops. “Oh, _Archivist_ ,” it says, sounding as though it ought to be wiping tears from its eyes, “Let’s not go _that_ far.”

It makes him angry, for all that Jonathan remembers how pointless - how dangerous - getting angry at this thing is. But he doesn’t _understand_ , can’t grasp what Michael is planning or what it wants, and it’s not as though not understanding what’s going on around him is _new_ to him at this point, but something about it is just _too much_ right now. Maybe it’s Melanie King’s comments about Sasha, coupled with the sudden striking memory that Michael had commented on Sasha too, that are tipping things over the edge for him.

“Then _why_?” he snaps out at it, ignoring the way that Michael lifts one eyebrow slowly at the tone. “Why come in here and do _this_ , and— and everything else you’ve done to me, but then do whatever the _hell_ it is you do to everyone else? Why am I so different? What do you _want_? What are you _planning_?”

If he didn’t know better, he’d think that Michael almost looks sad for a moment. But then it’s standing up abruptly in an odd, rippling movement, and reaching out to eject the tape from the recorder before Jonathan can stop it. Once it has the tape, though, it only reaches out further, takes his hand - gently, as though trying to minimize the wrongness of how its hands feel - and places the tape into it.

“Why you are different is… not a question I can answer, Archivist.” It pauses, then, an odd expression crossing over its face.

(again, if he didn’t know better, he’d say it looked almost tongue-tied)

Eventually, it continues, “And what I’m planning is… many questions, not the single one that you think it is.” It tilts its head contemplatively. “But I have no ill will toward you.”

As keyed up as he is, without even thinking about it first, Jonathan blurts, “And did you have ill will toward Lydia Halligan, or Helen Richardson?”

Another odd expression. He can’t place this one at all.

“…I did not,” it says.

It pulls back, then, watching him for long moments as he curls his hand around the tape it gave him.

“I think I should take my leave,” it says after that pause. “We and words are clearly… at odds today, and I fear I’ll leave you with even worse ideas about my intentions if I stay longer.”

He can’t decide whether he’s glad it’s leaving. He knows he should be.

“What about this?” he asks as it starts to turn away, holding up the tape. “Your statement.”

It glances back at him. “My statement will let you sleep when you need it, Archivist.” It cocks its head. “I’d… advise that you not play it for anyone else. At least… not if you’re particularly attached to their continued existence.”

He should ask what that means for _him_ listening to it. He should destroy the tape, immediately. He should tell this monster in front of him to leave and never come back, and hope the thing listens to him.

Instead he only lowers his hand and stares down at the tape and says, quietly, “Yes. Goodbye, then.”

Its answering laugh is the last thing he hears from it, and when he looks up again Michael is gone and he’s left alone in his office, with a tape that’s apparently a free ticket to sleep for him and a free ticket to less fortunate things for anyone that isn’t him. A tape that should probably go to artefact storage, if not to somewhere with a large hammer or something else that would destroy it.

(a tape that he takes home with him when he leaves the institute that night)


End file.
